


A Police Car would have been Better - but in a pinch a Sedan will Do

by rainer76



Category: Fringe
Genre: AU, Dominance, Look ma no angst!, Multi, Restraints, Threesome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-23
Updated: 2012-12-23
Packaged: 2017-11-22 02:45:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/604950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rainer76/pseuds/rainer76
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All porn, no substance.  Some weird au where Lincoln decided to stay, the world is filled with rainbows and unicorns, and the Observers wouldn't <em>dare<em> annoy this trio</em></em></p>
            </blockquote>





	A Police Car would have been Better - but in a pinch a Sedan will Do

Their car comes to a gentle stop in the middle of a forest, hemmed in by trees and green moss on all sides. There’s zero reception for their cell phones and Peter doesn’t seem in a rush to move on. Lincoln spends the first ten minutes staring at the Redwoods; listening to the muted sound of nature and trying to decompress from their latest case. Olivia tilts her head at him, a slight curve to her mouth, before she moves around the vehicle to stretch her legs. 

“Don’t say I never took you anywhere.” Peter sounds distracted, watching them both as he braces himself against a tree-trunk, working the kinks from his shoulders. 

“Sewers, alternate worlds, and scary forests off the beaten highway. You take me to all the questionable places,” Olivia observes, not unkindly. “I’m making it a rule - you’re not allowed to drive from now on.”

“It’s pretty,” Lincoln objects - or at least the forest is gorgeous by daylight - he imagines it would appear more sinister under a different hue. He smiles at Olivia, opting for the goofy line and not caring how it seems. “Among other things.”

That was forty minutes ago – and there’s an old adage about idle minds being the devil’s playground because Lincoln’s determined to keep himself happily engaged. He hears Peter’s quiet chuff of laughter when Lincoln slides Olivia’s suit jacket from her shoulders. His fingertips push between the holes of her dress shirt, map her breastbone. Lincoln nuzzles his face against the side of her cheek, breathes in sharply. Animal comfort. Olivia’s scent is well known to him after all their time together. Carefully, he unbuttons the rest of her suit, unwraps Olivia like a fine gift. 

Lincoln’s compiled an important list: things that he loves about this world, reasons why he should stay. They include fine suits, good coffee, and sharp minds. He has a secret love for fast cars and a predisposition towards being challenged. He likes the freckle on Olivia’s right collarbone, the sure-handed way she assembles and dissembles her weapon. He likes the blunt strike of Olivia’s sentences, the precision of her words. The confidence of her walk. Her suits. Her strut. Her choice in men.

He likes being out of Hartford, even if the circumstances were less than desirable, and Lincoln likes this: dappled sunlight against his spine, the expectant hush of nature pressing against them, of a forest spanning millions of years blocking them in. He likes the sedan they chose for the trip - signing out the first car they could get their hands on – and more specifically, he likes the height of the hood. The small sounds Olivia makes. The contrast of bared skin against metallic paint and how she pulls Lincoln forward by his collar. He likes the newfound easiness between the three of them - of hashing it out until they battered the borders down - a geometry of chance because they work well as a trio: Olivia’s steadfast heroics against Peter’s recklessness, combined with Lincoln’s ability to find the common ground. 

He kisses her throat, collarbone, and cheek.

Their clothes are folded in the back seat, the air warm on exposed skin. Outside in broad daylight - Lincoln’s hyper-alert, tracking every sound. Furtive, he feels like a teenager, looking over his shoulder in case someone should interrupt. A natural high – and he wonders if this is the feeling Walter spent lifetimes chasing - trying to perfect alchemy when other avenues were readily available. 

The trees whisper overhead, the sun moves in its steady course. 

Bracing both hands against the hood of the car, Lincoln thrusts forward, sinks inside Olivia with a sigh. He closes his teeth around an exposed nipple and worries it, tugging and licking until it firms, turns red with abuse. He palms her breast and rolls his pelvis forward. Olivia bites his lip in retaliation, a sharp sting of viciousness. Her hand tightens in Lincoln’s hair, she scoots backward on the hood, ankles criss-crossed and locked around his waist. Olivia arches her neck to look for Peter, voice a seductive hook. “It’s not a spectator sport.” 

Peter quirks an eyebrow. “The porn industry might disagree with you.”

Lincoln’s hot, as if the trees ate all the oxygen and spat out fire. Olivia licks into his mouth desultorily, with an obvious eye for their audience. “Harder,” she encourages. He groans, on tiptoes and bent double over the hood, straining just to reach her. 

His hips snap forward, crash against her pubic bone. 

Olivia’s gaze moves past him, mouth curving into a satisfied smile. Lincoln doesn’t realise how close Peter is until the handcuff closes around his left wrist, his arm jerked behind his back and pinned. Ungainly, he collapses, his support taken away. Balls deep inside wet heat, Lincoln’s toes scrabble against the earth as he tries to correct himself. Olivia wraps both arms around his back, tightens her thighs and squeezes, keeping him buried inside. Lincoln doesn’t have time to disengage before his opposite hand is caught as well, twisted behind his back and locked inside the second bracelet with neat efficiency. Lincoln pants harshly, plastered bodily against Olivia. The hood of the car is no longer the correct height - without the use of his arms, without the space between their torsos - Lincoln can barely rock on his tiptoes and the angle and depth is all wrong. He protests – certainly his tongue pushes out sounds, small whimpers that Olivia eats – her hand slides to his nape, her fingertips brush his earlobe. “Breathe,” she encourages. 

Hands cuffed behind his back, Lincoln shudders inside of her. 

“Remember when you and I crossed over?” Peter asks, conversationally. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you took some pleasure in jerking me around from one end of the pier to the other.” Idly, Peter kicks Lincoln’s feet wider apart. He braces his thigh against Lincoln’s buttocks and applies weight, keeping Lincoln pinioned.

Lincoln turns his head slowly, tries to make eye contact, gather his thoughts. The truth is, he _had _enjoyed it – secretly he once thought; but not as secretly as he had assumed – because manhandling Peter Bishop featured in more than one of Lincoln’s personal fantasies. “Are those my cuffs?” He has to use those cuffs for work. He won’t be able to look at them the same way after this, or the car, for that matter.__

__“Yep.”_ _

__Olivia breathes against Lincoln’s ear. He judders, fine hairs standing on end. It’s weird, those unexpected points of contact, an erogenous zone that makes no sense. Olivia notices his reaction, eyes sharp, and smoothes Lincoln’s hair out of his eyes. Behind him, Peter hooks one finger in the chain connecting the handcuffs and tugs, gently. It changes the angle of penetration, it makes Lincoln slip further inside, chest peeling away from Olivia’s torso, shoulders and arms stretched, until the only point of contact is where his cock breaches her cunt. Body a perfect arc. With the knee he has braced against Lincoln’s butt; Peter jolts him forward._ _

__“G-god,” Lincoln stutters. Olivia rolls up to meet him, pelvic floor tightening in a wet caress._ _

__Her hair is loose. There’s wildness to her - the setting maybe, or the concentration of seeking her own pleasure - she’s spread out on the car, creamy skin and bedroom eyes, feet flat on the hood. Her thighs are a cradle; coveted, and Lincoln’s dizzy with want. His shoulders are just starting to burn – the skin on his wrists protesting - when Peter wraps an arm around his body, taking the pressure off his shoulders. The relief so immediate, intense, that Lincoln groans._ _

__“True?” Peter whispers. “You were enjoying that moment on the pier a little too much?”_ _

__Wordless, Lincoln nods._ _

__“I thought so.”_ _

__Just as carefully, Lincoln’s lowered, groin to hips, hips to stomach, stomach to breasts, bent double over the car and too shallow again. Incoherent, Lincoln thinks he’s going to cry, legs spread too wide, a roaring in his ears that blocks out the sound of wildlife and birds. Olivia's kisses are deep, tongue licking across his teeth, body undulating beneath him. “Please,” Lincoln says, at the same moment Peter drops to his own knees, releasing the chain in favour of spreading Lincoln’s ass-cheeks._ _

__Peter licks a delicate stripe, probing the muscle, skimming the rim before dipping his tongue inside. He uses his fingers, stretches Lincoln open with maddening slowness, first one finger, then two, before he uses his tongue again, remoulding Lincoln until he’s nothing but sensation, these points of prolonged contact between cock and ass, between Olivia’s eyes and Peter’s easy manipulation._ _

__“I’ve got you,” Olivia promises, and breathes for him, pushes air into his lungs. “Relax, I’ve got you.”_ _

__Tongue and fingers aren’t the same as a cock. Physically overloaded, Lincoln shatters at the very first thrust, pulsing hot and wet as Peter seats himself, as he fucks forward with one long, steady, drive. Lincoln's fingers curl inside the handcuffs; his vision whitens; he loses all hearing. Vaguely, he’s aware both Olivia and Peter have stopped moving, waiting him out. When Lincoln’s spent, the world once more returned to focus, he can't catch his breath, filled to the brim and caught between both their bodies._ _

__“You’re going to be sensitive,” Peter observes, upright on his own feet. He braces both hands against Lincoln’s spine - to keep him bent double, at right angles over the hood - still inside Olivia’s body and only barely softening - then fucks him. Helpless, Lincoln rolls forward on a wave._ _

__Olivia groans, arches back, eyes glittering with pleasure. “You’re one of mine,” she whispers. There's no one to hear her but the two men, and the surrounding forest, as old as time._ _

**Author's Note:**

> For mona - for putting up with inebriated 'writer's' on the meme and some very clumsy word-play


End file.
